Here I Am
by Garbage and City Lights
Summary: A continuation from where 666 leaves off; nine months later. Hannah's pregnancy is coming to an end, and the birth of Samuel is approaching... what horrors will be unleashed when the son of He Who Walks Behind The Rows is born? PG-13 for violence and l
1. Introduction

_I don't own anyone. The only element of this story that belongs to me is the events that take place, which are basically guesses put into a fic. Enjoy, and feedback is appreciated._  
  


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Elkanah had two wives, one named Hannah, the other Peninnah; Peninnah had children, but Hannah was childless. This man regularly went on pilgrimage from his city to worship the Lord of hosts and to sacrifice to him at Shiloh. When the day came for Elkanah to offer sacrifice, he used to give a portion each to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters, but a double portion to Hannah because he loved her, though the Lord had made her barren. Her rival, to upset her, turned it into a constant reproach to her that the Lord had left her barren. This went on year after year; each time they made their pilgrimage to the sanctuary of the Lord, Peninnah would approach her, and Hannah would weep and refuse to eat. Her husband Elkanah used to ask her: "Hannah, why do you weep, and why do you refuse to eat? Why do you grieve? Am I not more to you than ten sons?"  
_The First Book of Samuel, 1:8_  


  
Hannah ran her hand slowly over her belly.  
"There's... nothing wrong?" she murmured. Dr. Pritchard shook his head with a smile.  
"No, Miss Colby," he said cheerfully. "Everything checks out perfectly. You can have your Ultrasound in a week or so." Hannah tried not to wince and failed. The doctor noticed. "Are you feeling all right, Miss Colby?"  
"Fine," she said, a little too quickly. "The baby... he's kicking." Dr. Pritchard scratched his eyebrow idly and glanced up from his clipboard.  
"You've decided it's a boy, have you?" Hannah moved her palm over her bulge of a stomach again and was surprised to feel a dry smile turn up the corners of her mouth.  
"Call it maternal instinct," she said softly. Dr. Pritchard's face flowed easily into a warm smile.  
"Well, feel free to contact me if you think anything's wrong," he said pleasantly, extending a hand to help her from the table. Hannah wobbled a little with the uneasy weight and ended up gripping the sterile white counter for support.  
"Thank you, doctor," she murmured, and headed for the door with slow, careful steps. The bulge before her was still such a trial.  
"Miss Colby," Dr. Pritchard said tentatively, "were you... expecting something to be wrong?"  
("Don't be scared.")  
Hannah lingered by the doorway. She could see Rachel seated in the waiting room, flipping uninterestedly through a tattered issue of People magazine.  
("After all... we _were _destined.")_  
_Rachel had signifigantly more worry lines on her face than Hannah noticed nine months ago.  
_("First son and first daughter was MY prophecy, and it was fulfilled!")  
_"Miss Colby?" Dr. Pritchard repeated.  
"Not expecting," Hannah whispered, hand tightening around the doorknob. "Only hoping."  



	2. Chapter I

_I don't own anyone. The only element of this story that belongs to me is the events that take place, which are basically guesses put into a fic. Enjoy, and feedback is appreciated.  
  
_

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Hannah rose after one such meal at Shiloh, and presented herself before the Lord; at the time, Eli the priest was sitting on a chair near the doorpost of the Lord's temple. In her bitterness she prayed to the Lord, weeping copiously, and she made a vow, promising: "O Lord of hosts, if you look with pity on the misery of your handmaid, if you remember me and do not forget me, if you give your handmaid a male child, I will give him to the Lord for as long as he lives."  
_The First Book of Samuel, 1:11  
  
_

She squeezed into the passenger side of Rachel's truck. There was a moment of silence as they both sat there -- Rachel staring at her daughter, a worry line forming between her eyes, and Hannah running her hand slowly over her belly again -- until at last the key was put in the ignition and the engine growled to life.  
"What did the doctor say?" her mother asked quietly, pulling the pickup truck out of the hospital parking lot.  
"Same thing they say every fucking time I go in there." Hannah propped her chin up dejectedly on her hand. " 'The baby's great, the baby's healthy, the baby's on its way; are you having your ultrasound yet, because it sure would be nice to see that baby.' " She snorted in disgust, watching the road go by boredly. "I don't want an ultrasound because I'm afraid it'll show the baby with horns and spikes down its back." Rachel laughed quietly, and Hannah looked at her with a dark scowl. "I wasn't joking," she snapped.  
"Sorry," Rachel apologized, turning the truck into their subdivision. "It's my defense mechanism."  
"Some defense mechanism," Hannah said gloomily, and winced. "Jesus Christ, I think this kid has _claws."  
_"I wouldn't be surprised," Rachel murmured. For a split-second, Hannah saw a horrible image of herself giving birth to the demon child she'd been fearing; a squalling creature with horns and talons, something not unlike the Lord of Darkness from the movie Legend. She thought she'd throw up at first, but it went from a dry heave to a choke to a cough. The terrible mental picture passed, leaving Hannah nauseous and shaky. "Are you all right?" her mother asked suddenly.  
"Fine." Hannah offered a smile. "I have this weird craving for peanut butter, though... would you mind if we--"  
"Not at all." Rachel's face erupted in an understanding grin. "I remember pregnancy fairly well." She pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened the door. Hannah hadn't realized that they were in the driveway already. "C'mon inside, I'll make us some sandwiches." Hannah opened her car door and lowered herself slowly to the ground, making a face at the ugly flower-print maternity dress she wore. She insisted it made her look fat, but it was obvious that she needed no help in _that _department. In some ways, she was almost ready to have the baby and get it over with.  
"No sandwiches," Hannah said, hurrying after Rachel with one hand pressed to her lower back. "Just peanut butter."  
  
Hannah jabbed her spoon hard into the jar of peanut butter.  
"This is _perfect," _she murmured, nibbling a little from the spoon's edge. Rachel settled beside her, a diet cola in one of her hands.  
"You're so easy to please," her mother chuckled. "When _I_ was pregnant, I constantly craved Swedish meatballs." Some old movie was playing dimly on the TV, something with Elvis Presley on a retreat full of horny young women. Hannah didn't know what it was; the television was set on mute.  
"Mama," she said softly, poking at the peanut butter again. Since Gatlin, it had been easier to call Rachel her mother. After all, she had felt the connection between the two. "Your visions are born of pain," her mother had told her. An explanation, supposedly from the mouth of Isaac.  
"Hm?" Rachel murmured, sipping at her diet cola.  
"Am--" Hannah was surprised to hear her voice falter; she set aside the jar of peanut butter, despite her stomach's growls of disapproval. "--am I a bad person for wishing my baby dead?" Her mother was caught off guard, apparently. Rachel's face was first bewildered, then sad.  
"No, honey," she said softly, pulling Hannah closer to her on the couch. Hannah obliged willingly and pressed her cheek to her mother's shoulder. "Hannah... we're all scared when we're pregnant. I know I was." _It didn't help that you were living in Hell, Nebraska, _Hannah thought drily, and Rachel went on. "We don't know what it'll be like the first time. And you--" She looked down at her daughter, paused, then smoothed her hair slightly. "--you have plenty of reason to be scared. And plenty of reason to hate what's growing inside you. But don't hate the child, Hannah -- hate the evil that helped conceive it." Rachel gave her an awkward hug. "Who knows, honey. Maybe he'll turn out perfect."  
"Perfect," Hannah chuckled darkly. "Isn't that what Isaac had intended? For a perfect race? A 'new order', I think he called it?" Her mother said nothing; she twisted a little to look at Rachel's face. "Mom?"  
"I'm... I'm fine." Rachel smiled weakly and sipped at her soda. Hannah realized her mistake, then winced twice -- once for her rude remark, and again for the baby's thrashing. She resisted the urge to pound on her belly and snap, "Pipe down in there."  
"Mama," Hannah said slowly, "did you love him?" Rachel looked surprised.  
"Who?"  
"I think you know who I'm talking about." She settled her chin on her mother's shoulder. "Did you love him?" There was a long pause before Rachel nodded, somewhat reluctantly.  
"Yes," she said quietly. "Yes, I loved him. Once." Hannah moved her palm slowly over her stomach, something that had become more of a habit than a concious action.  
"Did you love him like you loved Daddy?" Rachel turned her can carefully in her hands. Her fingers became moist with the water that had gathered on the outside.  
"No," she said slowly, "I think I loved him... in a different way." Rachel paused to gather her thoughts, then went on. "I loved Amos for his heart and his courage. I loved Isaac... for something else entirely."  
"For what, Mama?" Hannah asked softly. It was difficult to understand that anyone could love Isaac, what with all the trouble he'd caused. All the people he'd hurt.  
"I loved Isaac for his faith." Rachel took a sip of her soda and suddenly seemed to dislike the taste. She set the can on the endtable beside the sofa. "He believed so whole-heartedly that what He Who Walks Behind The Rows was doing was right. Isaac was... lost."  
"Lost?" Hannah echoed.  
"Isaac was lost," Rachel repeated, looking somewhat mournful. "He needed someone to tell him that he wasn't lost, only searching for the right path. He needed someone to show him the right path. Unfortunately, Isaac trusted the wrong person -- the _first _person to tell him what he wanted to hear." Hannah blinked slowly. She had never thought of Isaac so much lost as... psychotic.  
"Oh," she said in response. Rachel looked down at her and smiled sadly.  
"I don't expect you to understand. I'm not even sure I do yet." She pressed a light kiss against Hannah's forehead. "I'm going to go read a book in the kitchen. Want to join me?"  
"No, I think I'll take a nap." Hannah offered a small smile and got slowly to her feet, teetering a bit. "I'll be in my room."  
"All right, honey." Rachel watched her daughter wobble awkwardly down the hall. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time -- she was going to be a grandmother. A grandmother of the son of He Who Walks Behind The Rows. "You tried to change it, didn't you, Isaac?" Rachel murmured to the air. "You tried to change the prophecy, but you failed." The words aloud made her emotions tip more towards crying than laughing, and she turned to the kitchen before Hannah saw. At last a mother, suddenly a grandmother. _Damn Him, _Rachel thought, tears stinging her eyes, and went to find her book.  
  
_Gabriel had such a beautiful smile.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder at her and flashed her that perfect grin, the one that melted her heart. Hannah squirted him again with the hose to hide her own shy smile. Gabriel laughed as the stream of water hit him and twisted to see her. She nearly melted when they locked eyes -- he not only had a beautiful smile, but stunning eyes as well. Eyes that took her breath away.  
  
In a matter of moments, he had taken her in his arms. Gabriel's lips were over hers, his hands on her sides. Hannah nearly fainted as he touched their foreheads together, locking eyes with her. He moved his lips just slightly, as if he were trying to say something, then gave up and pressed his mouth against hers. Hannah flowed into the kiss. It felt so natural, so instinctive... her hands were in his hair before she even knew it. Almost as if this were not of her own choice -- but of course, it was. What a silly thought.  
"Hannah," he whispered through the kiss, leaning her back against the straw-littered barn floor.  
"Gabriel," Hannah responded immediately. Her voice was surprisingly low and breathy to her own ears. But she was not thinking about that. Hannah was thinking about how heavenly his hands felt on her body. Heavenly... from Heaven... just like his namesake. Gabriel the archangel. Because that's what he really was -- an angel. And now he was _her _angel. Gabriel's fingers ran slowly over the buttons of her shirt; Hannah shivered in anticipation. She knew what was coming. He smiled down at her to make sure it was all right -- hell, who could refuse that smile? Gabriel lowered his mouth to her neck in a gentle kiss and Hannah's eyes drifted closed. It was what she wanted. Ever since the first day she'd met him, when he was slinking around outside Isaac's hospital room... she knew he was what she wanted. And now she would have him.  
"Gabriel," she whispered again, and suddenly screamed.  
  
There was a piercing pain in her stomach, one so harsh and sharp that Hannah couldn't help but cry out. Her eyes flew open to find the source -- certainly it couldn't be Gabriel, not _her _Gabriel. But it was. In his hand was a rusted hand-sickle, one stained and dripping with blood. _Her _blood.  
"Wha--" she gasped, and screamed again as it went down into her belly for another blow.  
"Don't be afraid," Gabriel chuckled, bringing down the sickle for a third time. "You did everything perfectly. I couldn't have planned it better myself." A fourth slash into her stomach; Hannah screamed, her throat already feeling as raw as if she had been shrieking for hours. Oh, but the pain was _horrible..._  
"Gabriel!" she gasped, but again came the scythe.  
"After all..." Gabriel turned the hand-sickle over slowly in his palm, chuckling darkly. "...we _were _destined." The eyes that had once been so breathtaking crinkled at the corners; his mouth flowed into a sinister grin. And down came the blade again. Hannah screamed.  
  
_Hannah screamed again. She jolted awake so violently that she nearly rolled off the cheap futon she had been sleeping on.  
"Gabriel!" she cried, and bit back another high shriek of pain. Her stomach, oh God, he'd slashed her stomach, the baby, oh God what about the baby... She looked for the blood on her maternity dress, but there was none. Realization hit her, hard and sudden.  
  
_The baby.  
  
_She ran her hands quickly over her bulging belly and screamed yet again as another sharp pain seared her stomach.  
  
_The baby was coming.  
_


End file.
